


winter solstice

by demios



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Pre-Canon, Sid and Rielle are there but not focused on, wherein i use the fray myste tag correctly for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 16:06:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18391772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demios/pseuds/demios
Summary: Fray asks a favor; Hilda makes a promise.





	winter solstice

_“Fury’s frostbitten tits!”_

There’s a sharp gasp, then the sound of a body ducking to the ground as the bullet whizzes past them. Hilda contemplates taking another shot from her perch; few tried to sneak up on her with good intentions.

“It's just me!”

Hilda’s arm lowers at the voice, the fire in her gaze flickering out when she gets a proper look at her unexpected visitor. Hyuran in stature with a dark complexion, like a shadow in broad daylight. Their sallow eyes fix on her, from under mussed helmet hair that nearly hides the pointed ears they have. They’re someone like her, and the only one she trusts to come slinking around her favorite hideaway while completely silent.

“Fray?” She asks as she looks down from atop the wall she's standing on.

“Who else?” They crane their neck up and shoot her a dirty look as they dust their scuffed breeches off. “Hasn't anyone ever told you to watch where you're sticking that shaft of yours?”

“Aye, and they’ve all lost one ‘twixt their thighs for it!” Hilda’s peal of laughter echoes through the Brume, bouncing off the stone and snow-soaked scaffolding. “You’re lucky that was a warnin’ shot. You ought to stop sneakin’ up on girls with guns on their hip.”

“I don't think that's the problem here. You're _incorrigible._ ” Fray sighs. They pull themselves up the crumbling stone using the chipped spots for footing, and settle themselves next to Hilda on the ledge. Their legs dangle off the wall alongside hers, as if walking on the rolling clouds below.

“Wasn't bred well, you see.” Hilda snorts, making room for them.

The precarious view is one they haven't seen in a while - Fray thinks it strange how even the bed of swirling mists outside the city could change so drastically with the Calamity, their shape distinctly different from the abyss of white they knew in their youth. The height makes them faintly dizzy as they stare directly into the writhing mass of clouds. One jump and they’d be lost to the Holy See, soaring through the air as one of Halone’s winged servants. They know of more than one person who would be glad to see that, they think.

But instead, they lose themselves in the mindless moving patterns, their vigilance slackening for an indulgent moment.

“Good to see you in one piece this time.” Hilda’s dark hair dances in the wind, thick locks partially obscuring her face when she turns to them.

“I’d say the same, were it not for the bullet you almost put in my hide.” They smile with a crooked flash of white.

“ _Almost._ If I really wanted to kill you, it'd be right between the eyes.” She informs them. Hilda picks up an open bottle resting on the opposite side of her, swirling its contents gleefully. “Want a sip?”

Fray grabs the bottle from her hold, taking a whiff of from the top and wrinkling their nose. “What is it?”

“Mulled wine. Stephanivien is tryin’ to win me over with my favorite since I’m taking his new toys out for a jaunt.” Hilda cocks her head towards the steel contraption fastened to her back. Fray eyes it warily. They never liked the flashy ruckus a machinist’s arm caused - too unpredictable, and too much noise in comparison to a sword muffled by the veil of darkness.

“Is Haillenarte wine any different from Gibrillont’s?”

“Beats me.” She shrugs. “Maybe it tastes less like piss?”

Fray takes a swig, makes a face that looks like a displeased coeurl, and immediately hands the bottle back to Hilda. The sharp taste noticeably fades from their tongue with an unpleasant shiver up their neck. “Not for me, I’m afraid.”

“I thought as much. More for me, then.” She snickers, then knock backs a hefty gulp, unrepentant enough that it makes Fray balk at the prospect of doing the same. “What brings you out here, anyways? I don't imagine you have much time to unwind these days.”

“Well. Sid and I, we found a girl while sweeping the city. We haven't the slightest idea who she is, but she can't defend herself.”

Hilda raises a brow. “So, what? You want me to furnish the lass with a culverin?”

“She's _fourteen,_ Hilda.” Fray says. As if they'd trust one of those miniature ballistas in the hands of a girl barely into adolescence.

“Come now, she can't possibly be a worse shot than you.” She grins, ruby bright with mirth in the gray of the Brume.

Fray rolls their eyes, knowing exactly what she's referring to - they had the misfortune of wielding a pistol once, and didn’t appreciate the nasty bruise the recoil left on their shoulder. _Take a shot,_ she said, foisting the damned thing onto them. _Maybe you’ll like it more than swingin’ around a claymore._

The barrel was clunky enough to rival wielding a misshapen gladiator’s sword, and the attempt to adjust their grip had them squeezing the trigger just a hair too hard - and nearly nicking the skin from their own ear with the bullet when it ricocheted off the stone. Hilda grasped her aching sides through her raucous barks of laughter.

“…Unnecessary jabs aside, that's the opposite of what I meant to propose. Besides, we both know you're just looking for any excuse to flirt with that Haillenarte housemaid at the Manufactory.” Fray deadpans.

“Hey, now!” Hilda playfully smacks their shoulder, but it doesn't deter them in the least.

Their lips quirk upwards, amusement tinging their normally cool features. “Am I wrong?”

“It's not _my_ fault she's got the most adorable freckles and the sweetest smellin’ hair- _gods, never mind!_ ” Hilda’s cheeks are the shade of rolanberries now, and Fray suspects it's not just from the cold. They allow themselves a chuckle as she stops burying her face in one hand. “Enough about my girl, what were you sayin’ about yours?”

“Right, that. I wanted to ask a favor of you. We’re watching her for the time being, but...” Fray’s expression tenses. “If anything happens to me or Sid, can you take her in?”

Hilda stares at them quizzically. “You've saved maidens before, haven't you? What's so different about this one? You should give her to the orphanage if she doesn't have anyone.”

“It wasn't that she pissed off some knights on patrol; the _Inquisition_ wants her. I don't know why, but she was chased through the Pillars like the Horde was on her heels.” Fray’s jaw clenches, their pale gaze turning dark as they recall the night they found Rielle.

The moon - the only one left - had been full, casting hallowed light onto the silent streets. Sidurgu’s limbal rings glowed softly as they traveled by the darkest of shadows, watching for any sign of danger. There was a subtle shift in the aether then, when she ran past. Nothing malevolent like when scalekin darkened the skies; rather, it was closer to the pureness held by the Twelveswood when it was teeming with Elementals. She didn’t dare call for help as her bare feet carried her across weathered stone. It took but a fraction of a second for Fray to make their decision when the Temple Knights came baring steel.

Sidurgu led the bastards away while Fray gathered up her frail form in their arms, her eyes wide as she shivered against them. They ignored how light she was as they wove their way to the Brume, leaping over unsteady planks and broken stone. Though they prided themselves on being the pragmatic one in their duo, they found themselves acting before thinking when they carried her inside the shoddy hole in the wall they called home.

“And they are _still_ looking for her. If those _godsdamned_ Templars could leave us the hells alone, or better yet, drop _dead-_ ” Their blunt nails dig crescents into their callused palm, the burn of it mirroring their growing fury.

It crescendos in their senses, the sound of steel on steel and the sacrilegious rend of flesh. It was their duty to cultivate darkness, to find even a spark of the flame mentioned by their master, always thinking it was hidden in the next corpse or spill of blackened aether. They tried to take an empty pleasure in it, in culling those drunk on power, even though it couldn't fill the yawning hole left by the death of Ompagne and everyone who fell before. But walkers of the path live with that sense of loss hanging over them, ever forging forward through blood and bone for their own cause when the meek lack the strength to do so. _They must. Justice demands no less._

To hone the abyss and mete out punishment of the wicked - for them, two sides of the same coin when the Fury’s so-called arbiters were corrupt enough to pursue an innocent girl with _unsheathed blades-_

“Fray.” Hilda says, softly, her words falling upon their ears like the first flurry of snow. “Your heart’s bleedin’ too much.”

That gives them pause, the swirling miasma choking their thoughts waning enough to see her worried expression. It hits them like suddenly realizing how cold it is from atop their perch, the frigid air sinking its claws into their tender lungs. And for a moment, they think maybe the glowing coal they were looking for is in her eyes, intense yet warm. She is one of the few they trusted to ground them, even if she didn’t rely on the darkness.

“Listen, it’s not that I ain't sympathetic to your troubles, but - I’ve seen you. Ever since your old man died, you’ve been damn _reckless_ with your sword.” Her brow furrows at that.

They edge away from her slightly, suddenly aware of the hurts they're still nursing. Hilda’s firm words seem to press down on them, both ones from their bout of vigilante justice and the ones that had scarred over since they picked up the mantle of dark knight. They don’t meet her gaze this time, instead focusing on the fog below their feet again. It's begun to thin, the tips of the frosted crags on one side of the rift now exposed.

“While I appreciate you cuttin’ down bastards who think they can do as they please to us, you might be overdoin’ it. And now, takin’ in another mouth to feed? You and Sid can barely take care of yourselves.”

Fray sighs in defeat, the perpetual knot in their shoulders coming undone when they sag. Hilda’s right, of course. They’d been running themselves ragged as of late, barely resting. They scrub the fatigue their eyes with the heel of their palm.

Constantly moving, constantly fighting, letting that dark haze take over so they wouldn't have to think about how pitifully aimless they both still were. They took Rielle in because it's what Ompagne would have wanted, to shelter her from the monsters looking to claim another innocent life. But Fray knows they shouldn’t be bringing orphans under their roof, especially not with their profession of choice, and yet…

And _yet,_ they saw in her fearful eyes someone they couldn’t save long ago. Some stubborn part of them refused to let go of it, that terrible promise of redemption that took root in their heart.

“It’s… it’s different this time. She's just a child.” Fray’s voice is hoarse, unfamiliar to themselves. On any other occasion, they'd be inclined to blame it on the wine. “And she begged us not to leave her at the orphanage.” They close their eyes, remembering how tightly she gripped the leather of their coat until her knuckles turned white, the hitch in her shuddering breath when they tried to walk away. _Don’t leave me alone._

Hilda puts a hand on their knee, the touch fully pulling them out of the memories. They meet her gaze again, sincere and beseeching.

“I don’t imagine it’ll come to that, but it would put my mind at ease. Please.”

Fray looks... _tired_. Suddenly they’re just the child that she grew up with in the Brume, hoping for better days, rather than a specter bearing a soaked guillotine. And Hilda can't say no to that, can she?

“Alright, alright. You don't have to grovel like that. It's a promise, then. From one mongrel to another. I'll make sure they don't find her if...” She trails off, and the thick silence afterwards is enough to fill the space between them.

“Thank you,” They bow their head in mute prayer.

“But you better not let anythin’ happen to yourself, you hear? You're my knight in shinin’ armor, after all.” They can hear the smile in her voice when she claps their shoulder.

The days that make them mortal are long behind them, but the old pet name makes their heart twinge, a reminder of a time when things weren't so convoluted and their heart hadn't rotted black. It makes them feel a little bad for asking in the first place.

Fray scoffs quietly. “Don't worry about me. I’ve got all the good sense between the two of us.”

-

“I’m a mongrel, but I don't bite.” Hilda winks at the timid elezen girl with eyes the color of aether. She's well-hidden in one corner of the Forgotten Knight, and partially behind Sid from where he sits at the table. The latter eyes her with faint suspicion - being known as Fray’s friend who brought naught but mischief in tow would warrant that, she supposes.

Hilda turns her attention back to the girl - _Rielle,_ she remembers Fray calling her.

“Halone’s blessings be upon you, miss…?” She peeks her head out from behind the au ra, still hesitant.

“Hilda.” She gives herself a pat on the chest. “Say, Rielle, how’d you feel about wieldin’ a revolver?”

“A _what?”_ Sidurgu looks nothing short of dismayed at the suggestion. “She’s _fourteen!”_

“And?” A cheeky grin splits her face. “I’m sure the Haillenarte lordling could fix up somethin’ special for her.”

Sid’s jaw only slackens in disbelief as he tries to dredge up an adequate rebuttal.

“We've already gone over this,” Fray looks close to rubbing their temples when they join the crowd at the table, holding a mug of hot chocolate. “No firearms of any kind for Rielle.”

“You didn't ask her for her opinion, did you?” Fray gives her a flat look, already distracting Rielle with the warm drink. Hilda shrugs. “Fine, have it your way. But if she ever wants one, you know who to ask.”

“Aye, we’ll be sure to ask the volatile woman waving around a handgonne, provided she doesn’t put us full of holes first.” Sidurgu says as Fray shakes their head in exasperation.

Hilda doesn’t refute him and merely laughs, but she doesn’t miss the way Rielle is smiling from behind her cup.


End file.
